Elephants, Hummingbirds and Wolves
by Eomara
Summary: When Mary is no longer pregnant, her minds turns to what is going to happen next - but it all rests on the chance that she will be able to let her life take a different direction. Mary/Marshall.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1 – Elephants_

The engine had been off for a few minutes, she could still hear the ticking noise the engine made when it was cooling down – she remembered when she was little, how relieved she was to hear that noise when her mother had managed by some miracle to get them home in the car. Now she was nervous about the noise, because it meant the car ride was over. The car ride that had unwillingly ferried her from her empty home to work. The car ride that indicated her time to return to work was upon her and she had no choice – she had committed to this date, just as she had committed her baby to the Templetons.

And there it was again.

Them.

The people she had chosen for her then unborn child. The clan, the pack, the pride, the herd – whatever, she stopped to think she had been watching _way_ too much nature television while at home. Marshall would have approved…will approve…if she'd ever tell him. Still, it gnawed at her the way the hyenas gnawed on that unfortunate old wildebeest on the African savannah – she had given up her baby. She didn't see lionesses saying: "Oh hey fuzzy, can't keep you, you're going to go with that other pride over there, yup, not near me at all and no I'm not keeping you. Skidaddle."

Skidaddle? She shook her head free of that one.

She had done the right thing, right? Those people, that nice perfect couple, with their business (was it landscaping? She couldn't remember…) and their extra truck – they were perfect for that little kid. She wasn't. That's what she told herself. But truly, with her family's track record, it wasn't like she'd suddenly be a perfect mom. She couldn't do it by herself anyway – well, she could, she did everything else by herself.

"Woah." She quietly spoke to her dependable old machine, which as ticking a little less, but still making noise from time to time. "I do everything by myself." This realization for her was the realization she saw on faces of new witnesses when they suddenly understand _nothing_ will ever be the same.

This new realization left her with a lot of empty mental space to fill. So she did things by herself, was this bad? Was this good? Was it effective? And she supposed the most important question was – why? She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure it was the shrinky brunette who wasted her time.

"Nope. Still you."

She exhaled noisily through her nose. What was she going to do? Now that she wasn't carrying what felt like a blue whale in her uterus, she was left where she was before she was pregnant. She had no sense of direction then, and Mark hadn't helped matters at all, and now that the baby was no longer with her, she was direction-less again. Her mind spun – she was torn about the adoption, but more confused. Just go witness to witness – that's what. That determination didn't win when she realized it was going from someone else's old life transformation to another's and not ever examining her own.

That new realization smacked her as hard as she smacked her own forehead against the steering wheel. She had woken up this morning feeling apprehensive, but now she was feeling sick. Closing her eyes, she took in deep breaths, not as deep as when she was in labor, which just made her think about her baby yet _again_, but deep enough to calm her down a touch.

Of course, the well-intentioned knock on her car window made her jump to where she hit her head on the ceiling of her car and made her scramble for her weapon. But, she realized sooner rather than later that it was just Marshall. His face was skeptical and bemused, which brought her back down to a more pissed off state.

He backed up as she opened the car door and swung out her legs but approached when she didn't get out of the car. She knew he was concerned.

"Doing ok, Mare?" He asked softly. She didn't need to lie. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"Just ok." She mumbled, leaning sideways against her car seat and stretching her booted legs out in front of her. It was nice to have regular feet again. She might've given regular feet up to have her baby – wait, what the hell was that? "You know what?" She looked up at her tall partner who had been patiently waiting for this moment, although she didn't know it.

"What?"

"I'm not ok. I'm not fine, I'm not ok, and I'm certainly not good." She could feel everything rising in her, similar to how she stacked up her case of hatred against Ronnie – stupid con artist who she held responsible for ruining Squish's wedding. She had her elbows on her knees and was gesturing outwards from her car, as if all her grumpiness was in the car and it flowed out if she did that – well, if that's what was happening, it worked.

"I needed to be an elephant." She blurted this out and even Marshall, for all his patience, furrowed his eyebrows, raised his chin and opened his mouth slightly, in his classic: "I'm not following" face.

"You should know this, orgamiboy! Elephants are knocked up for twenty-two months. They get all this time to figure out what's going to happen next – that's nearly two years of decision time! Two years to know what the hell is going to happen next. There's no way they can make the wrong decision with that kind of time, even if all their family members are premium class A screw-ups! They can do the right thing and they have all the time they need! I didn't have enough time!"

She didn't know it, but this brought Marshall back to when she lay on the stairs repeating how it wasn't time, and he had mistakenly thought she was solely worried for the premature state of her child, although he had suspicions later.

"I mean, really," her eyes were wide and uncertain, also angry – much like when she was dealt with a surprise from a witness. But now she wanted to fight and wasn't sure how. Marshall was just keeping up with the flow of the tide and hated to see her like this. Admittedly, he was more concerned with the fact she knew something about elephants he didn't. Well, mildly concerned – the state of his partner was deeply fissured. "I didn't even know – I was so overwhelmed – it was stupid, but not, and now I can't go back on that – and once again, my fuck up family needs cleaning up and Brandi is-"

"Mare! Hold on. Just…rest. Elephants – how do they fit in?" He needed to distract her.

"They're pregnant for like…a fifth of a decade." She looked a bit miffed for being interrupted.

"Alright. Then what? Elephants live in herds with a matriarch and…their babies are their everything afterwards…" now he wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"I know they keep their babies." She waved that off. "I'm just saying, they have each other – there was this scene with them all together all the time, no matter what. They weren't…by themselves." She finished so quietly Marshall had to truly strain to hear what she said. She was rolling a piece of gravel from underneath her car beneath the sole of her right boot. Her hair had drifted in front of her as if she was already trying to cover up and forget what had just happened.

Marshall breathed out and then in a quick process of walking towards her, turning around and sliding down the car frame, so he sat to the left of his partner, and he began to speak.

"Mare, I know you wished you had more time, but…" he wanted to say this tactfully, "are you regretting what happened?"

"Regret?" She swung around to look at him scornfully, but found she didn't quite have the feeling behind it. "No, no way, not going there – 'sides, that kid is much better off with the Templetons than me – by far. I got plenty of my own immature nutjobs and asswipes to deal with without having a kid."

"But Mare…you're not alone." He made it sound obvious, because to him it was. He was there in the morning, and the afternoon, at night – sometimes at dawn, on those long road trips – always during meals. He felt a breeze come across the parking lot and it pushed her blonde hair back and he could better see how unsettled she was by this entire situation. It was only logical that he would miss her baby, he didn't think it was a full onset of post-partum depression, and he had put a good amount of time into being able to detect the symptoms. It had been the large amount of time that Stan forced on her to recover that these thoughts presented themselves, no doubt. So, she may miss the child, but it wasn't regret, but then she was lonely – how she lonely? The sun hit an angle that lit up the parking lot and it barely interrupted his thoughts, but it made Mary shift, slightly towards him.

"Marshall, am I going to just start cleaning up again? Jinx is barely staying off the bottle, I swear I'm gonna chain her to the wagon – and where the hell is Brandi? Peter is too…damn stoic about the whole thing and -" she had her face positioned towards him, and he knew there was more to it than she was saying. "You know, elephants have this _huge_ range of sounds they can make, they never get lost or separated. They make one noise and they're all back together – no phones, no emails, no text messages – none of that crap!"

_Again_ with the elephants. Marshall just shook his head.

"Then don't." He concluded, pushing himself off the ground and dusting off his jeans. Mare looked up at him like he had spouted nonsense. "Don't clean up, don't watch your mom, don't look for Brandi and do _not_ worry about Peter, he can handle himself."

"Doofus!" She stood up really fast and was suddenly dizzy, and Marshall quickly came forward and grabbed her by the elbows, pulling her towards him so she wouldn't fall into the door. She instinctively put her hands out and they splayed across his chest, and his hands had moved to her back, to keep her from stumbling. The color of her hair lit up in the midmorning sun and suddenly she felt so warm against him. He wasn't sure why she hadn't pushed him away yet, but instead she too basked in the contact – was the last time she had touched someone like this her baby? The thought crossed his mind but he didn't wonder too much about it, he was holding her, she was letting herself be held, it was momentary but peaceful.

She had felt so alone in the car, in the drive, and wondered why she was and now she wasn't. Finally it was ok – she wasn't by herself for a minute, and the world wasn't ending because Marshall was holding her. Sure, she should be upset and should be cranky and offended by his mere closeness – but she couldn't be.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2 – Hummingbirds_

If there was a sound that made Mary's scowl lighten just slightly, it was that of the coffee maker at work, trying it's best to produce the one thing it was meant to – coffee. She had to admit the joy of not being pregnant was mostly centered around the fact she could have coffee again. So with an unusual amount of patience, she leaned against the counter and listened to it hiss, choke and rattle – and among these sounds came the drips of the coffee. This sound accompanied a myriad of other ones – Delia's overly perky confirmation of some small task Stan assigned her, Marshall's constantly calm response to any phone call he received and the printer spewing out pages about some other unfortunate who was sentenced to life in New Mexico. Just to name a few.

With all these noises, it was remarkable that she heard anything else, but the overhead light had a deep hum that she had trouble ignoring. She wasn't sure why, probably because of that stupid special that was the tv last night – she had it on to keep her awake in case Squish called, even though she had promised Marshall not to care and do all the Shannon upkeep. What had that show been about, anyway?

Unknowingly she sharply exhaled, which came out sounding like an annoyed huff, but she had turned around to take her share of the coffee maker's hard work. Well, more then her fair share, but she didn't see anyone else standing in line, so really, not so much to justify. She was sipping from her star mug, and seeing the same mug on Marshall's desk made something flit through her.

As she prowled back to her desk, she caught a glimpse of the flaming red shirt Delia had on and suddenly remembered what that show had been about. At the time, she had been sprawled on her couch, Oscar's head in her lap, and she was scrolling through her phone's address book, wondering who was it she hadn't called yet, threatening them within an inch of their barely glorified existence for information about her sister. But on the tv screen was this bird, similarly colored to Delia's choice of fashion (or lack thereof, Mary added with an expressive eye roll), was going about its business with this curious British voice narrating its life.

Mary leaned back in her chair, holding her mug of coffee, and let out a small "huh", a remark on something she had thought of – nothing life changing, but something to muse over. Well, Marshall would see it as musing, she would see it as just thinking.

She imagined – briefly – what it would be like if some old British guy narrated her life. Like the small bird on the tv – it was a hummingbird, now that she thought about it. The hum of the overheard light definitely reminded her of the hum that some special recording caught of the bird's thrumming wings. But she was no hummingbird – probably some big time predator. Either way, she could almost hear it now… "….this particular predator waits patiently in the mid-day heat for her hapless prey to make its unfortunate way towards her…" and blah blah blah.

"Mare? You alright?" He was always the first one to notice when she wasn't throwing insults like darts.

She narrowed her eyes at him and gave an overly dramatic shrug where she bared her teeth a touch, as if to say, "who gives a flying crap". That was her way of saying, lay off, I'm thinking through something. Marshall just thinned his lips in slight irritation, although the raised corners of his lips said differently as to his feelings. He turned back to his computer screen, sparing a glance every few minutes to keep an eye on his partner.

He quietly thought of their embrace just a few weeks before. Mare hadn't become any more hostile, in fact quite the opposite. She wouldn't snap back when she disagreed with something immediately, instead she'd stew a bit without noise and listen him out, letting him take lead on some situations, even. Although there were still moments she'd level him – raze him to the ground in fact, especially when it came to one of her witnesses' safety. He was secretly glad she hadn't changed so much since the birth of her child.

Left to her thoughts, Mary turned once again to the small bird that she now knew way too much about. In some ways, hummingbirds were very much like her family – she learned that these small winged things had the smallest backbone of…some animal family, whatever, anyway – similar to Brandi. Very pretty, liked sweet things and had the tiniest backbone. She grinned at this, thinking of how insulted Brandi would be, and how much Jinx wouldn't get the joke behind the idea.

That's when she caught it. The invisible hummingbird in the office that took form in one of Marshall's well-intentioned glances.

"Can I help ya with something?" The sarcasm didn't lace her voice, it pulled it right down to the floor with its weight.

Marshall momentarily froze. He'd been caught.

"Nothing more than usual, Mare." He drawled, hoping to sound indifferent.

"Uh-huh, I don't buy that. I'd buy a roadkill burrito faster than that bull." Mary grinned like a kid when Marshall made a disgusted face at the thought of such a meal.

That made him go back to his work and let her think a bit more. Stan would chastise her later for not using the morning for getting paperwork done, but she'd shrug and go help her newest witness. Or undermine Marshall in front of his.

Marshall. It was an undeniable thing…whatever had happened when he caught her and then she let herself be held. Well, she wasn't exactly shouting no and trying to escape him – she didn't think it was that gooey and stupid feeling of being "safe", but instead just letting her constant guard to rest a bit. She didn't have to worry that Marshall was going to get drunk and pulled over by Bobby the Cowboy, or run away from his own wedding or hop out of the car to run away after eating the rest of her grilled cheese. It was nice not to wonder when he was going to screw up next – because he didn't. His track record was flawless, as far as she was concerned. He still considered it a bit of a shameful moment that he couldn't hunt down the man who had shot her all those months ago, but his dogged pursuit let her have the glory of chasing down that donut hoarding gangster clutching his chihuahua to his mountainous self. She smiled – that had been a good moment, she had been hurting but it made no difference to her.

Still, that inkling of a feeling poked at her the way those hummingbirds poked at flowers. Well, there was some crap about how the feathered cottonball-sized birds were good for flowers, but constantly something tickled against her. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling so to say, just unknown, and that was what bothered her the most. Still, every damn time Marshall said something caring or just looked her way with that concerned look, there was a hum of wings in her stomach. It was a warm feeling, but not weighed down with the responsibility of carrying a child – it was a hopeful promise of something more exciting. With that thought, she finished her coffee and went along with her day, knowing something she didn't this morning, but not angsting over it. She snorted, she didn't angst, that was left for her whiny witnesses. Which, by the look of things in the conference room, was going to be really whiny. It was going to be a long day.

Correction. It was going to be a few long weeks. She had trouble sleeping now. Well, correction, she had trouble with peaceful sleep. She smiled to herself in that knowing way that she only would when no one else was around. Hands wrapped around a hot mug of coffee she had managed to make herself, she stood leaning against the counter looking out the window. The New Mexican sunrise was pretty spectacular, she'd admit it – not aloud, but she thought it was nice. Better than Jersey. She shoved off the counter with her hip and squinted a bit against the growing light outside. It wasn't _entirely _welcome, to be honest.

She kept thinking of her dreams, which were all hazy. She was always wandering around searching for something, and someone was there telling her where she was, but it wasn't making sense. But she kept searching, going from one dream to the next, one place to the next. She frowned, knowing that it was very similar to the life she already led. Weren't dreams supposed to be enjoyable? Like, she didn't want Fabio popping up, long hair blowing the wind, but couldn't she at least have peaceful dreams? When she felt a wet nose sniffing at her bare feet, she knew her time for thinking was over.

Oscar walked next to her, not because he was trained offleash or anything stupid like that, but he just stayed there now. She figured he ran off only for good reasons, well, most of the time. He was going about his business and Mary had time to take a glance at her neighbors. Most of the neighborhood was pretty nice, but she was stuck next to this total psychopath couple. Of course, they wouldn't tell you why that house was on the market, oh no, they'd wait for you to be cozy and moved in and then you realize you're living next to the stupid equivalents of Hannibal Lector and that crazy woman from that movie…Mare sighed. She couldn't remember what it was called, but she knew that somehow a rabbit was involved. Anyway, she was a total nutso. They were pretty pissed about her problems with the FBI, who had also decided to dig up her neighbor's garden, claiming that Brandi had hidden something in their yard. Little did the FBI know they had trotted onto an obsessive gardener's paradise and that had put both the FBI and Mary on her neighbor's blacklist. Forever.

She squinted at the sound of those wind chimes – how was that relaxing? Hollow pipes beating against each other, really? Oscar didn't like it either, as he shied away from the sound. So Mary walked on, ignoring that clanking, until something flew in front of her and she nearly fell on her ass. Of course, Oscar was off the sidewalk and into the nasty neighbor's yard.

"Oscar!" Mary hissed, crouching low and running beneath window level of her neighbor's house.

By some miracle he hadn't started barking but he rounded the back of the house to follow whatever had frightened Mary. She followed him, cursing his waggy tail the entire time, wanting him to just stop getting deeper into the yard. Her neighbor's wife was the gardener, the neighbor himself was a hunter. Not good news.

"You idiot, get over here!" She whispered angrily at him, but he just glanced at her and kept going. Finally he stopped towards the back porch and sat down in the dew-laced grass, looking up at something. He was totally involved, not at all caring that she was putting her life on the line just to save his furry butt. She didn't care what it was he was so drooly over, she wanted to get out of this yard pronto. Crouching, she swiftly covered the lawn on the side of the house, and reaching out, snagged her fingers between Oscar's collar and his neck. Bingo.

Of course, something had to distract her.

Oscar was watching something right behind her head. At first, she thought maybe her rifle-toting nutjob of a neighbor was out, so she swung around. She, thankfully, did not see him, but it took her a few seconds to focus on what the dog was watching.

No.

Can't be.

Mary muttered out a few choice curses when she saw the stupid flitting brightly colored bird humming next to a fake nectar thing. It hung from the porch roof, and had red plastic tubes shaped like flowers and other garish decorations for the hummingbirds to drink from. Wait…didn't they eat that? Drink? Mary shook her head and tugged on the collar of her dog, trying to drag him off. But, he's part pit, so he wasn't going anywhere.

So she watched the bird for a bit, seeing it almost mechanically slide from spot to spot in the air. How it was so fast and so graceful, she had no idea. Humans were not like that, she decided. She had never known anyone to be so naturally and continuously nimble, well, she frowned slightly at the small voice in her head that said there certainly was someone who fit that description. Hmph, she sniffed and her frown deepened, but the bird was entirely concentrated on its food and made no move to even entertain the idea of paying attention to its audience. Mary relaxed again and watched it, liking how the morning sun made its feathers almost look metallic. Very much like the metallic looking rifle barrel that rounded the corner of the sliding door.

"Who the hell are you?" His nasty and gravelly voice totally destroyed her morning.

"Your neighbor?" She stood up, suddenly wishing for her sidearm. She could smell the psycho on this one.

"Get _outta _my yard, bitch." He was holding his rifle in the crook of his elbow, but he began to raise it a touch. Too much for her liking, and Oscar's, as well. His growl started to rumble in his chest and it raised to a pretty constant snarl that was rippling the air – the hummingbird was long gone.

"Look," she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight onto her left hip. "Don't know why you had to bring out the armory, asswipe." Her hackles raised, just as Oscar's did.

"You're on my lawn, blondie – move." His tone wasn't brooking any argument.

"I'm getting my dog from your lawn, your stupid wannabe golf lawn." Mary wasn't not having this today – her semi-peaceful morning and (she hated to use this term) bird watching had been screwed up by this overaggressive whale with a rifle.

"What you sayin' 'bout my wife's lawn?" The threat in his voice raised to a level Mary was trained to identify – a level she was almost worried about. Of course she couldn't go tell Oscar to hide in the bathroom until this was all over. She did rest her hand on his head and he relaxed. Sort of.

"Look, _bud_, your wife's lawn is just the topping of shitty sprinkles on her already sad life because it's tied to _you._ So I'm saying your wife's lawn has nothing to do with this, I'm just getting my dog and getting off your property." She had raised her voice to a level she could've heard in her own yard, but still had that power behind it without being hysterical.

"No you ain't, blondie," and he raised his gun just a bit higher and cocked it.

That's when it hit her – what was she doing? She purposefully antagonized her neighbor to the point of her life being threatened. Well, he deserved it, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was searching out this conflict, and did her best to make it worse. Now it was at a point where she was putting herself in danger.

"Please. You couldn't hit a snake that tried to swallow your rifle." She was playing unconcerned and went to the side to take the weapon out of his hands. But he swung back and had it on his shoulder aimed directly at her.

"It helps when I'm aimin' at something so irritatin'." He snidely remarked and as he went to close his eye, a government issued weapon met his skull.

"Do you realize, sir, that you're aiming at a federal agent?" His voice, hard as ice, drifted out and he walked around, gun aimed on her neighbor's head. Mary didn't mind.

"Well, that blonde bit-"

"Shut up." Marshall would not be contested. "Mare, you ok?" His face slid into one of concern and relief. Only to snap back to anger when the neighbor went to move his rifle. "That's enough from you, now get in your house and don't come out." He ordered the man to move, and diffused the situation all in one.

The grumbling bear waddled back over his porch and called out – "as long as that woman and her mutt stay off my property."

"Wouldn't come back even if you paid me." Mary shot at him and with one final glare, he slammed the sliding door shut, rattling the window.

"Marsh-" she couldn't even finish her sentence, because he stalked off through the grass and Oscar just upped and followed him. She hurried behind him and tried getting a word in edgeways but he kept going until he stood in her kitchen, with the island safely between him and his partner.

"What were you thinking, Mare?" His voice was serious, not to be trifled with. "What made you go off and enrage your neighbor to the point of _violence_?"

"You don't get it! I was following this," she gestured to the floor with a touch of irritation, to where Oscar lay, "and I got distracted – and then it was _his_ fault, he wouldn't lay off." She crossed her arms, knowing she sounded immature but not really caring.

"Mare! You can't do that!" He was exasperated, and suddenly she was scared. He took angry steps towards the door, his boots harshly hitting the floor. She didn't want him to be so upset that he would leave – couldn't he stay? She'd even say she was sorry if it made him stay, she couldn't think of him just getting up and leaving. She was already without her baby – how could she also lose Marshall? The sudden thought of the little warm gurgly and blinking bundle made her chest tighten with sharp pain and she inhaled suddenly, gripping the counter with far more force than necessary. He had been so warm – and trusting, he instinctually trusted her – there was only one other human who trusted her. His eyes had curiously watched her in an almost detached way, from his cozy spot in her arms and against her chest (at the time she thought it was because he was hungry that he was so perfect, it would make sense, considering his mother) – he watched her and he seemed to know he was hers. He seemed to know from his slow moving grasps at her hair and face that this woman was somehow his and he was definitely connected to her. Mary could feel scorching hot tears lining her eyes and Oscar's presence at her side, nuzzling her thigh with concern. She had _willingly_ given her baby boy up, and now she was _willingly_ let Marshall walk away.

She hadn't realized that Marshall had turned and watched her from the door, watched her struggle with that eternal struggle she hadn't had enough time to sort out those weeks before. Could he leave her as it haunted her – he didn't think so. He returned to her much faster than he had walked away and wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her arms away from the counter. For a long moment she stood frozen until she remembered that this embrace was ok – and she turned around and just hid her face in his chest. She briefly lifted her head and swallowing deeply, examined his perfectly ironed collar momentarily, the plaid soothing and familiar. Lifting her chin a inch or so higher, she lightly kissed Marshall's pale cheek, before returning to her hiding place in his chest. She would never know that incredibly similar look of wonderment that Marshall bestowed on her – except this time, instead of the gaze emerging from a newborn in her arms, it was from the man who loved her, who held her in his arms. He kissed the crown of her head, more than once, before resting his lips there and basking in the feel of her tightened grip on him and her steady breathing.

The morning had returned to a moment of peace.


	3. Chapter 3

Her boot heels clipped harshly and loudly as she tore down the road, the jacket whipping behind her. Gun in hand, she felt like she couldn't run fast enough, and she wished that she had listened to Peter when he told her to keep the Mustang. Why couldn't Brandi just take the car all the way to wherever she ran off to? She just had to dump it at a gas station and put it back in Mary's possession. She had been a day away from saying yes to her beautiful Mustang. Talk about a marriage made in heaven. Conspicuous, but it wouldn't of have broken down when she needed to get to her partner without any delay. She kept running the details Marshall whispered into the phone through her head, preparing herself for anything. Why couldn't she run any faster?

She had been getting a cup of coffee when he first called.

"Missing me already?" She quipped and she had almost wished that he responded with: "I always miss you." but, he didn't. Stupid hugs, stupid kisses, stupid feelings. It was getting in the way of her caffeine intake, apparently. Something was going to have to give.

"Perhaps your surly temperament in a situation such a this is missed." He returned, but the barest hint of caution was in his voice and she held up her hand to the barista who was trying to ask for her money. She lowered it to the counter, and unleashed a nasty icy hell of a glare on the customers behind her who tried the whole 'impatience' thing with her holding up the line.

"You ok? What's wrong?" She leaned over the counter and took her coffee, and walked out the door without even pulling out her wallet. She heard protests but ignored it, she'd figure it out later. She bumped open the door with her hip, sipping the coffee and screwing up her face. Nasty coffee, and grumpy baristas, she was glad she didn't pay for this crap. Still, it'd have to do.

"There's a bit of situation arising here and I feel that your presence would be appropriate." He still sounded calm and in control but she wasn't feeling it. Balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear, she opened her car door and folded into it, slipping her coffee into the holder.

"Ok you take control and I'll be there." She got the address, scribbling it down on her list of to-do, and she scowled at the "Brandi" written at the top of the list. She'd like to cross it out soon. As soon as she hung up with Marshall, she hit the speed dial for Stan, and she relayed the information. It relieved her to hear him quickly stand up and get ready to go and call for Delia. The rest of the pack was on its way. Honestly, it did feel like hunting most of the time, all of them cornering their hideously stupid witnesses who resisted the idiocy of Albuquerque. Not that she didn't try every once a while, but only when mobsters and criminals were not trying to slit her throat.

She had been close to the house when with a sputter, her car just died. Without even trying to start it up again she just threw the emergency brake and was out the door. The house was four blocks away – that was four too many and meant way too much time between her and her partner. She almost went blind to everything else, focusing only on Marshal. He was hopefully not in a standoff yet, but it sounded like it was going there. She vaguely recalled details about the witness, smalltime arms dealer out of California, left more than the usual amount of enemies behind. Yep, probably in a stand off by now.

Finally she got to the house and everything was in full gear, reminding her of the situation in the basement not so very long ago. At least she didn't have to get a bullet proof vest around her pregnant self. That's when she realized she didn't have a vest at all. That particular important piece of clothing was four blocks back, and again, too far to deal with. This was turning out to be one swell day.

She radioed in her position outside the house and ignored Stan's order to wait for back up. The door was open. First bad sign. Closing her eyes, she ignored the background sounds of this small suburb and listened, smelled, and felt for any signs of what was going on. It was only a few days ago that Stan had lectured them on using all of what they had to determine a situation, not just sight and instinct. At the time she cracked a joke to Delia about smelling some of the perfumed female witnesses that walked their halls. Honestly, she preferred to toss all but instinct, and that's where Marshal balanced her so nicely.

Tensing and relaxing at once she slipped in through the door and glanced around. Nothing fancy, and nothing was out of order here. So she silently moved through the house and heard footsteps going down a hall to her right. There was a doorknob being roughly shook. There could be no noise on her end if she hoped to surprise whoever it was that had Marshal and his witness cornered. That's when she heard a boot making a solid connection with a door. Well, if they had used their heel against the door knob like one should, the door would've burst open at the first kick. So maybe something was in their favor. Then again, they were already at the stage of breaking down the bathroom door – how the hell did it get this bad?

"You punk ass bitch! Can't hide in there with your bodyguard forever!" Not good with the insults apparently. Then back to the kicking.

"When I'm done with you you'll wish you were that punk ass bitch hiding, you piece of shit," Mary mumbled, silently thankful that shag rug still had a purpose of muffling noisy boots. Gotta catch a break somewhere. The living room had a hallway that went off it, with one of the doors being the bathroom. Explained the earlier footsteps and door shaking. She went along the wall, sliding against the cool stone. It helped her concentrate and focus – she didn't know if Marshal would jump out or just shoot from the bathroom. She really hoped it was the second one.

She turned the corner from the living room to the hall just as splinters flew as the door burst open. With his leg still in the air she stepped into the hallway, weapon raised.

"Hey! Punk ass bitch!" She didn't have time to say anything else as he leveled his weapon at her. His panicked movements barely matched up to her smooth discharge – one shot in the knee to take him down. And down he went, the stupid ass. His gun clattered against the tiles and Marshal shot out of the bathroom, pushing him to the floor and cuffing him. The usual calm on his face was replaced by exhaustion from adrenaline and relief. She should've felt the same but suddenly thought that this was too easy. No one would come for an arms dealer without –

"Mare! Get down!" He yelled at her and she spun and dropped, only seeing a pair of black pants and ugly cheap leather shoes. She went to curl up to protect herself, but she was gasping for air after a hard kick had been delivered to her abdomen and damn did it hurt. As another solid kick shoved her across the floor she briefly glanced up to see what her attacker looked like. But she had hit her head against some ugly piece of furniture so what she saw wasn't much to go on. That and she didn't have much time before the blur that was now Marshal tackled the bear of a man to the ground, with a fistfight ensuing. She pushed herself up on one hand and with a swift move, the butt of her gun cracking the skull of her attacker. Marshal looked up at her as the target of his attack went limp, breathing heavily but finally looking properly relieved.

She closed her eyes just a touch, and Marshal scooted up next to her after climbing over the arms dealer and kneeled in front of her. He rested his warm hands on her knees, not saying anything.

"Get your witness." She mumbled, resting her head on the wall.

"Fuck him." Her eyes snapped open and stared him down. He grinned at her and she thought maybe this was just going to turn into a really weird dream. It didn't, he kissed her temple as he stood up and went back to the bathroom. Stan and Delia burst in about two seconds later and they checked the witness while simultaneously checking her over. She wanted to be angry at herself for some idiot getting the drop on her, but she could only remember the warm hands and the gentle kiss.

It had been nearly a month to the day she had gone to the aid of Marshal and the arms dealer, and she was already sick of how every time he looked at her it was as if he didn't expect her to be there. Every morning he had a thankful expression, as if to say, "you should be dead, but by the grace of something you're not". It was getting routine and definitely routinely irritating to her. This was going to have to stop. She paused for a moment over the files in the cabinet. That exact thought had come to her when she was getting coffee before she was the failed knight with shining gun for her partner. Well, here it was again. Except this time it was accompanied with the memory of a warm kiss.

At least she didn't have to think too long about that, because her phone vibrated on her hip. Chatterchatterchatter, that's all she heard – she wasn't listening too hard, it was Peter's number that had popped up. Until she heard: "…there isn't a return address and I can't make out the state stamp it was shipped from, but maybe-"

Cabinet drawer slam.

"You just got this today?"

"Yes," he spoke as if he was used to repeating things to Shannon women. "I got it today, it's very vague, but it is definitely her handwriting."

Mary sighed, putting the phone away from her mouth and looking up at the industrial ceiling of her office. Well, at least her sister wasn't a fugitive of the law, only an expectant fiancé. Things had been worse.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." And beep – the call ended.

She walked back to her desk, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, making it swivel annoyingly all over the place. As she shouldered it on, she ignored the interested look of her partner and instead walked behind his desk, hip-checked him on his wheeley chair to the right and pulled open one of the desk drawers. He tried to look offended as she dug through his drawers like a wolf digging in the ground. Somewhat frantic, but with a mission.

"Mare, we've discussed the idea of personal property…"

"Shut it, I'm going to borrow this ok?" She held up a magnifying glass that had been given to him by one of his nephews or nieces for Christmas a few years back. Shoving it in her bag, she slung that over her shoulder and swiped her coffee from the top of the shelving drawers and was out the door. She didn't see the look Stan gave Marshal from his office door, but she did hear Marshal gather himself up and match her pace.

"Not now, Detective Mann," she held up her hand, stalling whatever verbal advances he had planned.

"Fine by me." He uncharacteristically shoved hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets and waited for the elevator. Not pushing, not needing, not requesting, and just there, waiting with her. Mary wondered if he was waiting for her, but that was another thought for another time. This is probably why she tolerated him, as the door binged open. He never cajoled her, needled her or at least unnecessarily provoked her. Most of the time he let her come to her own conclusion. Not quite a shadow, he just followed her when need be, just as he was now. Not that she couldn't handle this on her own.

He finally spoke when he was about to get into the passenger side – Mary allowed it. She had time to make peace with herself, at least for the next few minutes.

"Mare, just one thing." He was balanced on his elbows and forearms, hands lightly clasped together. She exhaled noisily and pushed her sunglasses up her nose, which had fallen slightly when she swung her hair back. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with this new information on Brandi, she would've seen Marshal pause for just a second, absorbing her in all her angry glory. She took on a certain intensity that made her not exactly more gorgeous, but perhaps more desirable because she was in her element. She wouldn't see this, but there were glimpses she had of herself in mirrors or windows where she thought perhaps the spineless admirers might have something going.

"Yeah?" She didn't care that he would hear how tired she was. All she wanted to know was if Brandi was safe.

"Only going to say this once. It is completely unnecessary and absolutely stupid of you to try this lone wolf existence." And with that he folded himself into her Mustang.

She blinked at the empty space where Marshall had been standing. It was now occupied with a cloudless sky, the deserted area that his presence had filled left her breathless in a painful way. She then gathered herself silently and got into the car, turning it on. From behind her veil of hair as she leaned forward to place the key in the ignition he heard her speak.

"I know." No snark, no sass, no shenanigans. Her voice was of a resigned tone, and perhaps a note of hope. He thought he had imagined it, wished that she might need him in some capacity. It might be years before that could ever happen.

"Alright then. Let's go." He nodded and things suddenly settled. She noticed he wasn't giving her those surprised and sympathetic looks or sentiments and this calmed her down considerably. He noticed she was better, just content to be focused on the present task. Unfortunately, it was Shannon family drama, but he was pleased just to be by her side. At least whatever they were hunting for, they could hunt together.


End file.
